


Retrograde

by disaster_by_chance



Series: Stony Oneshots [5]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, I swear, It's heavy angst but it gets better, M/M, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Sort of a fix it, The ending is less sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-04
Updated: 2020-01-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:53:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22112146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/disaster_by_chance/pseuds/disaster_by_chance
Summary: "Is this darkness of the dawn? And your friends are gone. And your friends won't come. So show me where you fit."
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Series: Stony Oneshots [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1589476
Kudos: 11





	Retrograde

There had only been a handful of times where Steven Grant Rogers felt absolutely helpless. The feeling of when you can't move, think, or even breathe. You're stuck in place, unable to move while everything around you seems to speed past you before stopping abruptly and crumbling to pieces while you stand and watch before falling through the cracks and drown out in the darkness, trying to claw your way out of this nightmare but failing because it's not a dream. It's reality. A cold, dark, twisted, cruel reality.

But he was _Captian America_. 

He could do this all day. So why would something make someone as great and brave as Captain America fall to his knees in defeat? What could possibly bring the living legend into the feeling of helplessness? 

I'll tell you what could. 

Say you're fighting a huge battle, one that could very well be your last. You've done nothing but fight other people's battles, because you _could,_ because the world needed you to fight their battles. Your own inner battles were drowned out by all the noise, the noise, noise, noise, of a world you didn't belong in. A world where you didn't fit in. But still, you fought. You had a reason to keep fighting, to pick up the shield and defend. You fought because you had someone to fight for. 

Someone _wonderful_. 

He gave you the world. He showed you the world. The world you didn't quite fit into, the world that you didn't belong in, the world that felt so lonely and empty because it wasn't your world. But he made it yours. He made it home. He was your home. 

_Home_. 

So say you're on that battlefield. You're fighting and you plan to fight till your last breath. _Whatever it takes_. Whatever it takes to make sure he lives another day. Whatever it takes to make sure he survives and gets to live the life he thought he could never have, but always deserved. Whatever it takes to make sure you keep your home. Whatever it takes. 

And you win. 

You win that battle. 

But at what cost?

You look for him. You always look for him. In a room full of people, he's the one you spot first. The one who catches your eyes first, _always_. You could never do parties, big crowds, things of that sort, but when he was there, the room didn't seem so big. Suddenly, everything was crystal clear. You were comfortable. The noises in your head seemed to quiet down, as if even the voices were in awe by him, wanting to see what he did, trying to hear what he said, trying to figure out what was going on in that beautiful mind of his. You look for him. You look for him because you want to tell him everything you should have said. Everything that needed to be said. You look for him. 

Then you find him. 

But it's not him. It's not. Because it can't be. Because it shouldn't be. It's not him. It's not him. It's not him. His eyes are full of light, big and a lovely chocolate brown that just hides so much emotion behind them it's hard to comprehend what he's thinking. Bright, brown eyes that used to look at you so lovingly, making your chest fill with the warm feeling of home. It's not him. It's not him. He's not smiling. His gorgeous smile that could light up a room if he wasn't smiling due to being cocky. When his eyes crinkled and nose scrunched up letting out a chuckle as he shook his head at something you said. It's not him. It's not him. His skin. It's pale. It's burned. His smile. It's gone. His eyes. They're dark. They're dead. It's not him. It's not him. 

_It's not him It's not him It's not him._

But it is. 

And you hate that it is. You don't know what to do because this wasn't supposed to happen. You couldn't lose him. The voices are screaming at you, they're overwhelming, and you're sure that your heart has stopped. Your vision blurs with tears and you don't move. You can't. You're stuck in place, watching as the light in his chest goes dark and it's almost like you can feel someone take a knife to your heart. It's so hard to breathe. To think. All you can hear is the noise in your head and suddenly nothing makes sense. 

He didn't deserve this. Not after everything he did for the world, not after all the sacrifices he made to make sure everyone lived another day. He didn't deserve this. He deserved to be happy. To live a long life with his family. To watch his daughter grow up into the beautiful woman she was definitely going to be. He didn't deserve this. And selfishly, you think, you don't deserve this either. 

To have the man you loved so dearly ripped out of your life so brutally. You've known nothing but war, the world didn't make sense to you, you've had the noises in your head never silencing for years, and life just didn't seem worth living. But at least you had him. And he could be a pain, yes, but it was a pain you were willing to put up with, so long as it meant you had a home. Someone to go back to. To rely on. Someone who was going to be there for you no matter what happened. You loved him. Truly loved him. He made everything better. He made everything clear. In a loud world that did nothing but confuse you till you were dizzy, he was there to ground you. He was there to show you how to fit in. You fit in because you had him. He was the good in your world. He was the quiet reassurance in the loud world you hated living in. He made the world liveable. 

But now he was gone. 

The universe was often cruel. It hurt people you love. It took away people you needed in your life. It didn't matter what your story was, what you were dealing with, the universe wasn't a talent show judge who wanted to hear your sob story. The universe didn't _care_. It just took from you. People you needed in your life. People you loved. The universe took them. It ripped him away from your caring, loving arms. You'd just got him back. But you couldn't have nice things. You learned that years ago. But you were a fool to believe that maybe, just _maybe_ , the universe would give you this one good thing. That the universe would give you _him_ , and let you keep him. You were a fool.

The broken shield on your arm suddenly feels really heavy. It almost makes you fall to your knees, giving in to the weight, but you're frozen in place, your eyes locked on his. But he's not looking at you. Not anymore. What was supposed to be a warm feeling in the chest was now cold pain, squeezing at your heart, forcing your breath to be stuck in your throat. The shield was supposed to be light. It wasn't supposed to feel like some burden weighing you down. But it did. He gave you that shield. After you used it to hurt him. He gave it back to you. He _forgave_ you. Thank you was caught in your throat, the words rattling inside your breaking mind, but why should you be thankful? The world seemed empty now. You'd lost too much. 

_Home_. 

It didn't make sense to you anymore. The word had no meaning now, it was empty, meaningless, _dead_. Home was gone. A useless term that made just as much sense to you as it did the moment you woke up in a world that wasn't for you. It didn't make sense. As your legs strained to walk towards him your mind tried to comprehend home. What it could possibly mean now if it meant anything? The word repeated over and over again in your mind as you dropped the heavy reminder of him down, the rest of the world gone, and like so many times before, it was just _him_. Everything else didn't matter. You didn't care who was looking. It didn't matter now. It was too late. Better late than never, they say, but now that saying leaves a bitter taste in your mouth because it really is too late. 

With shaking legs, you kneel down next to him and the noise in your head, the loud, abrasive noise, suddenly silences. They're waiting for him to say something. For him to do something. But nothing happens. Of course, nothing happens. He's gone. You finally let out a shaky breath, your hands slowly removing the cowl and tossing it aside, unable to take your eyes off him. It hurts. It hurts to see him, someone who was so filled with life, it hurts. But it doesn't stop you from reaching out, your hand shaking, reaching out and gently cupping his face. You hold back a cry as his skin is cold to the touch, so, so, so cold. Like ice. He's gone, really gone. The noises come back when they realize you lost him. It's cold. And it's loud. And he's gone. 

You press your forehead to his. It's still cold and it sends shivers down your spine. Nothing had ever felt this cold to you. Not even the seventy years of being in ice was this cold. Physically, it was cold, what you could touch was cold, freezing even. But on the inside, it was cold too. You were shivering, despite the sweat, and with nothing to lose, you press a gentle, overdue kiss on his forehead. You hope he felt that, but you know it's childish to think that he did. It's not wonderful. There are no sparks. No fireworks. Nobody is smiling. Your lips are cold. It's cold. 

With a gentle brush of your thumb over his cheek, you pull away, and for the first time in a long time, you don't look at his eyes. You can't. It hurts too much. What was the point? It was no longer home to you. It just hurt. It wasn't supposed to be like this, you think again as you securely wrap your arms around his legs and back, picking him up despite wanting to crumble and fall to your knees to reflect how weak you felt on the inside, it wasn't supposed to be like this. You hold him close, and he's cold, you're cold, and the voices are loud and unforgiving. You can't see anyone, you can't hear anyone else but the noises in your head. You've got to get out of here. 

Away from here. 

You want him back.

You want to go back home. 

But he's gone. 

He won't come back. 

The universe took him away from you. 

You're alone now. 

_***_

You don't want to go. But it wouldn't make any sense for you not to. She's not here to help you through this, you lost her too. You lost her, and you lost him. You were truly alone. And yes, you had friends. And they tried to help you, to talk to you, but they weren't _them_. He's not _him_. And you think yourself as selfish because you only want him. You want him back, so you can have him again. All to yourself. You want your home back. Because now you didn't know what to do. Where to go. Everything seemed to remind you of him. The team you started together. The shield he made for you. The technology he worked so well with. The boy, Queens. The smell of coffee in the mornings after what had happened. Pepper. The little girl with his eyes. Everything. You were lost. And maybe even scared. You didn't know what to do. The world was empty again. It just wasn't ever going to be the same. Ever. 

But you go. 

You say goodbye to him. You say goodbye to him with everyone else. You don't want to, but it would be silly not to. He was gone. You say goodbye to people who leave. But he didn't leave, he was _taken_. And it wasn't fair. But no matter how angry, frustrated, confused, mournful and hopeless you were, you kept it in. You kept it in for as long as you could because you were Captain America. You had to set a good example. And maybe a few tears did make it out, as you watched his reactor drift away in a wreath of flowers, you didn't break down. Even though you wanted to. Even though you wanted to cry out and scream about how unfair this was. To him. To Pepper. To Peter. To Harley. To Morgan. To _you_. 

You kept it in. 

Oh, it hurt. 

It hurt so much to say goodbye to him. You weren't ready to do so, you were sure you'd never be ready to say goodbye to him. You had, years ago, after a huge fight. You thought it was goodbye, and that didn't hurt any less, but now it was for real. This goodbye was final. And it hurt. You don't say goodbye to home. You always could find one. But you only had the one, and he was gone. 

So what now?

Soon it proves to be too much, and after watching a heartfelt message given by him, knowing he might not make it out alive, you excuse yourself. You turn a heel and walk straight out of the room without a word, the back of your hand pressed up against your lips, your vision quickly blurring with tears. You know they're concerned. They turn their heads and watch sadly as you leave, unsure what to do because they're all hurting. But they don't know how much you are. They couldn't understand. She could. But she was gone. He could. But he was gone too. 

You were alone again. 

Walking right out of the cabin and as far into the surrounding woods as possible, not caring if it results in you getting lost. You were already lost. You didn't have a sense of direction anymore. And it was selfish to think like that, but after years of fighting for others' wishes and desires, you figure you could have this one selfish desire. To have him back. To be with him again. To not have him here proved to be too much. It left a hole in your chest that ached with everything you did. It hurt. 

He really was gone.

It was okay the first time. You didn't know him the first time when he sacrificed himself to save New York. He didn't mean much to you. He was just a teammate. But when he didn't come back, you wanted to take back your cruel words of him because maybe he wasn't as bad as you thought he was. And he came back. And you got to know him. And you fell in love. 

The second time was scary. When he had a plan to save the human race from extinction as a result of his own creation. It had looked like all hope was lost, but they were the Avengers, so of course, things worked out in their favor. He was smart. And even with the chance of him dying, he didn't even think twice about executing his plan to save the earth. You were in awe. 

The third time was heartbreaking. It was because it was your doing. You lost him because of your own selfish desires because you couldn't talk it out with him because you didn't think he'd understand. Because you _lied_. And you hurt him. You hurt the love of your life and there was no turning back. This was when you were sure you lost him. But it didn't hurt as much, because you knew he was still there. He was still alive. He was okay. Even if you did break his heart. Literally. 

But this?

The fourth time?

He wasn't coming back. And when he just started to get the things he deserved, a family, stability, happiness, care, all those things. The world needed him again, hell, the universe needed him again. And of course, being him, he was up for it. Up for one last sacrifice. The universe needed him to make that sacrifice. But you needed him. You needed him to be _here_ with _you_. You needed him back. 

So alone, in the god knows where in the woods, you let all the emotions out. Anger, sadness, frustration, pain, hurt, confusion, guilt, _everything_. It was pathetic. You were Captain America. And here you were, mourning over a lost love as you'd done before. Your eyes stung with tears, your knuckles bloodied from taking it out on the surrounding trees, your clothes, and hair a mess. You just wanted him back.

We could go home. Imagine it. 

_***_

This was going to work. 

It had to. 

Whether it was viewed as 'selfish' or 'out of character' by others, you saw it as reasonable. If you had to continue living with the noises in your head, with nothing or no one to silence them, why would you stay? If you had to continue living in a world where home no longer had a meaning, why would you stay? If the world didn't make sense to you, why continue living in it? If it hurt, it hurt so much not to have him anymore, why continue on? 

This was going to work.

It had to, or else you didn't know what you'd do if it didn't. 

Taking a deep breath, you stepped onto the platform, your grip around what prompted so many nightmares from him, resulting in a killer AI robot. You give a reassuring nod to them, they'll be fine. They've got each other. You know, because it's what you used to have with him, what you were trying to get back. After, of course, you repaid a promise to a certain someone who would be thrilled to hear all about him. 

This was going to work. 

Closing your eyes, you took another deep breath, the helmet coving your face as they got ready to send you back to return the stones that killed him. You'd do that. And though they expected you to come back, you didn't plan to. This wasn't a world you wanted to continue living in. It wasn't the timeline or universe you wanted to live your life in anymore. You wanted the world to make sense again. To feel welcomed again, no longer someone out of their time. You wanted to go back home. Go back to _him_.

That was your plan. 

To go back. To go back to him. 

Go back home. 

Home. 

Suddenly the word had meaning again. Suddenly the world made sense again. The moment you laid your eyes on him again, bright, brown, beautiful eyes filled with that wonderful light that only a genius could have. 

Tony. 

Tony was home. 

You were home. 

Your lips on his soft, warm lips was home. Him wrapped safely in your arms, perfectly fitting was home. Him snuggled next to you in your bed was home. Him burning breakfast in the morning was home. Him singing to AC/DC in the garage as he worked and you sketched was home. Him helping you understand a concept was home. Him forgetting to do the laundry was home. Him holding your hand when you felt lost was home. Him showing you off to all his friends and anyone he met was home. Him showering you with compliments was home. Him blushing and looking away sheepishly whenever you kissed the top of his hand was home. Him smiling widely whenever you understood a reference was home. Him laughing with his head tilted back after you made a joke was home. Him calling people out on their bullshit was home. Him leaving the toilet seat up was home. Him picking up strays, cats, dogs, kids with superpowers and no parental figures was home. Him falling asleep on your shoulder every time you watched a movie was home. Him staying up late in his workshop, refusing to sleep was home. Him refusing to celebrate his birthday but eventually giving in was home. Him moaning out your name the way he did when he was close was home. Him getting mad at short jokes was home. Him making sarcastic comments, innuendos, and jokes was home. Him saying 'I love you' before bed was home. Him saying 'yes' to your proposal was home. Him saying 'I do' at your wedding was home. Him vowing to stay with you, in sickness or in health, in life or death was home. He was home.

You were home. 

Imagine that. 

**Author's Note:**

> I decided to write a quick angsty oneshot that's kinda been on my mind after seeing posts about how Steve would've reacted to Tony's death and how at the funeral he was standing alone because he'd lost Natasha and Tony. However, I'll admit, it starts to suck because as I wrote it. I just got tired and kinda maybe gave up. So sorry if it's shit.


End file.
